


Memories (That We've Made Together)

by xxxbookaholic



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet, Bittersweet Ending, Found Family, Gen, Leaving Home, Some Fluff, kind of, mankai is kind of their home, ngl i think of yukiten as romantic but you dont have to
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:02:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26915569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxbookaholic/pseuds/xxxbookaholic
Summary: Tenma has always known this day would come. That didn’t make it hurt any less, though.
Relationships: Rurikawa Yuki & Sumeragi Tenma, Sumeragi Tenma & Summer Troupe
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Memories (That We've Made Together)

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of a flash fiction that I did a while ago (also available on my ao3) but I don't recommend reading it before this, seeing as it's included in this fic. You can if you want, though.

Helplessness wasn’t an emotion that Tenma felt very often. He was used to roadblocks, sure, but they never left him flailing. No matter what they were, he always managed to move past them. _“Good things come to those who work,”_ his father had once told him, sitting him down at the dinner table and chiding him for a failed audition.

That advice had stuck with him his whole life, and for the most part, it was true. He’d seen it all; talented actors that refused to back down, mediocre actors who, despite their shortcomings, worked harder than anyone else to accomplish their goals. He’d seen the worst of them, too; the ones that complained about their problems but never did anything to fix them.

Still, no amount of hard work could keep him in Mankai. He knew that, he did, but it still hurt. Staring down at his phone, rereading his manager’s message for the fifth time that night, he was reminded of how short life was.

He didn’t think about death very often. It wasn’t something that mattered all that much to him; it was better to live your life as best you can rather than moping about it all coming to an end, right? That night, though, he couldn’t help but wonder how many experiences he’d be missing when he inevitably left.

He wasn’t the only one awake at that time of night; Kazunari had texted the group chat at least fifteen times in the past two hours, Misumi had stepped into his dorm room just a few minutes ago to show him his newest triangle, and Yuki was still at his desk, ignoring the ringing of his phone and occupying his time with cutting fabric.

_This is what I wanted,_ he reminded himself, his thumb tapping against the back of his phone. _I’m only doing this to stretch out my resume._

Sighing, he finally dropped his phone on the ground, turning around to get under the blankets. “Turn the lights out,” he half-ordered, half-requested.

Yuki dropped his stuff after a second, turning around in his chair to face Tenma. “This isn’t your dorm room, Hack. It’s _ours_. You can’t tell me what to do.” Despite his defiance, though, he got up and turned off the main light, leaving only the dim light of their lamp to guide his movements.

“You should go to bed, soon, you know. I don’t think anybody wants you to turn out like Tsuzuru,” he grimaced, thinking about all of the times their scriptwriter had barreled into the rehearsal room, high on caffeine and already half-asleep.

Yuki just scoffed. “I’m not going to turn out like Villager B.”

“Whatever you say,” Tenma muttered, shifting so he was facing the wall and not the light that was still too bright for him to look directly at it.

The rest of the night was quiet, filled with only the shuffling of blankets and the buzzing of a sewing machine. Tenma knew this because he didn’t sleep; just stared at his wall, wishing that the darkness would swallow him up before he had to break the news.

═ ═ ═ **╰☆╮** ═ ═ ═

The darkness did not, in fact, swallow him up. Instead, it just let him fester, curling around him until the sun peaked over the horizon.

Tenma got up earlier than his roommate, giving up on sleep in favor of eating breakfast fresh.

Nobody was awake when he got to the living room. The only person in sight was Hisoka, who was napping on the carpet, looking like a cat. He was completely still and unmoving. If Tenma wasn’t so used to the actor’s sleepy antics, he’d have thought he was dead. _It’s only a matter of time before Homare comes and drags him back,_ he mused to himself.

It was just another thing that he’d miss when he’s gone.

═ ═ ═ **╰☆╮** ═ ═ ═

“Were you planning on telling me?” A voice suddenly asked, interrupting Tenma’s rehearsal of the lines for his upcoming audition.

“Telling you what?” He replied, twisting his neck around so he could face Yuki semi-properly. His roommate was looking even more irritated than usual, although it was hard to tell.

“That you’re leaving tomorrow.” It felt like the breath was knocked out of his lungs. _How does he know?_ Taking his silence as an answer, he continued, “seriously, you hammy actor, you should have told us.”

Tenma looked away, just slightly. “Does everybody know?”

“Izumi told us,” Yuki replied, his arms crossed. “What, were you expecting to just take off?”

“Kind of,” Tenma admitted. He’d been planning on telling them, but deep down, he knew that he’d never have gotten around to it. Saying it made it real; he didn’t want it to be real.

Yuki was silent for a long moment, and then he dropped his arms, sighing. “Fine, leave. But just know that if you leave without even saying goodbye, you’re going to frustrate a lot more people than me.”

The conversation ended like that, leaving a stifling, uncomfortable feeling in the air that left Tenma feeling like he was choking.

_How am I supposed to get out of this one?_

═ ═ ═ **╰☆╮** ═ ═ ═

He did what Yuki said that morning, just a few hours before he was supposed to leave. As much as Tenma didn’t want to admit it, his roommate was right; he was being selfish.

For the other three troupes, he decided a simple text would suffice; he sent a message to a group chat and left it at that. They all talked for a while, and eventually it all died down, to Tenma’s relief.

His main problem was his own troupe.

He ended up talking to them after rehearsal ended for the day; it had been horrible and made him feel more uncomfortable than he’d felt in Mankai for a very long time. Kumon cried, Kazunari begged for one more selfie together, which turned into three, which turned into ten, and so on. Misumi gave him enough triangles to last a whole year; months ago, he’d have thought the overbearingness of Misumi was annoying, but now, he could only feel grateful. Muku cried right alongside Kumon, talking about how they’d all miss him.

His goodbye to Yuki was by far the hardest, though. It was overly awkward, the air between them was still stilted, and he didn’t really know what to say.

So, instead of saying something cheesy, he settled for, “lead the troupe when I’m going.”

Yuki’s eyes widened, just for a second, and then he nodded, crossing his arms once more. “Obviously.” He was quiet for a while, and then he said, “I won’t mind if you text me.”

Tenma smiled, the stiff atmosphere lessening, just by a little, “good. I’ll be checking in on the troupe often, then.”

His roommate rolled his eyes. “Not too often. I have a life, you know.”

“Yeah, maybe you do. That doesn’t mean it’s a good one, though,” as he said it, though, they were both laughing, as if he wouldn’t be leaving them in just a few hours.

It felt a lot better to enjoy his last moments with him rather than to fret.

═ ═ ═ **╰☆╮** ═ ═ ═

Tenma always knew this day was coming. He saw it in Yuki’s harsh words, Kazunari’s quick photos, Muku’s treacherous ranting. Misumi’s joyful mumbling, Kumon’s hands as they wrapped around a baseball, preparing to throw it for the hitter. Still, nothing had been able to prepare him for when it actually happened, when he was standing at the dorm’s front door, suitcase in hand, tears pricking at his eyes.

His father had told him that good things never lasted forever. At the time he’d thought, ‘ _if you work hard enough to maintain those moments, they can last forever, can’t they?_ ’. Now, though, forcing himself to turn around and walk out the door, he realized what his father was trying to say. Life was passing him by like a river, forcing him into a direction he didn’t want to go, uncaring to how tight his hold was on the rock that offered him the only safety he’d ever known.

It wasn’t all that bad, though, for he knew that no matter how far he went, he’d always have a piece of them with him. Misumi’s collection of triangles, the shoujo manga Muku had given to him. His phone, full of texts to Yuki and selfies that Kazunari had sent him. The baseball in his bag that he’d gotten when he went to a game with Kumon, not that long ago.

They still had each other, and he still had the memories they’d made together.

No matter how far life pushed him, that would never change.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! This will also be available on my tumblr (xxxbookaholic) for anyone wondering. I actually wrote this for a school project (I homeschool, so it’s valid) but decided that I might as well post it as well, because content! If you liked the fic, please consider leaving kudos and/or a comment! It keeps me writing.  
> This won't be going in my fantober series because it isn't based off of one of the prompts.
> 
> Have a nice rest of your day/night <3


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